Sandy Claws is Coming to Town
by Queen Annie-Ferny's Calling
Summary: You'd better watch out, you'd better not cry; you'd better not pout, I'm telling you why: this Christmas fic is coming to rape you. OH, SH--!
1. Solstice Gathering

**Meet my new pet project, everyone! For those of you who remember/have been around long enough, I actually had a Christmas fic up last year, too...deleted it, though. Heh. Whatever. **

**This shitty thing really has no obvious plot and will be written with no outline whatsoever. Because I see this as a lazy-ass side project and have no real idea where the hell it's going, its chapters will most likely be pretty short and will be updated at random intervals between now and Christmas. **

**Read, review, concrit, flame...I don't really care. I don't own _Warriors_. **

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**[Sandy Claws is Coming to Town]**

_.Solstice Gathering._

Crystalline snowflakes danced through the air, spinning down from the heavens on a journey the ground as the light radiating from the moon illuminated them to silver. The forest floor was matted with a thick white carpet of snow, darkened with trailing lines of pattering pawprints here and there and glazed with a dizzying array of shimmering sparkles as moonbeams leapt gleefully across its banks.

Frolicking across the fairy tale scene were the four Clans, Shadow, River, Wind and Thunder coming together as one to consecrate the longest and best of all nights. Cats were everywhere the eye could see: huddling in cosy caches under low evergreen bushes; the young apprentices prancing smugly around each other in the middle of the lit clearing; mewling kits, excited to be so far from camp, tumbling over each other. Several couples simply enjoyed the pleasure of being just together, snuggled up while merely observing the rest. All were unique in their own aspect, yet they all came together for one same purpose: to celebrate the Solstice Gathering.

Coming but once a year, it was an annual event for the Clans, a thing that was always much looked forward to and given heaps of thought in terms of planning so it might be the best it could. It was a time of merriment, of meeting new cats, of rekindling old relationships...a time for memories to be made.

Through the gently falling snow, there came a piercing yowl as Nightstar bunched his haunches and hurled his lean frame at the Great Rock. True to his name, the WindClan leader's smoky pelt, bathed in mixed arrays of shadows and light, blended right in and was barely visible against the smooth black backdrop of the sky above. Only his eyes, which were an icy blue, glinted magnificently down at the assembled cats.

"My friends!" he called. The voice that erupted from his slight build seemed to startle some, deep and warm and rasping all at once. "My cherished friends, we join here today as a symbol of the peace and harmony we hope to keep alive in the memories of the Clans for many moons to come. It is only once every four seasons that we go through with this tradition, and it is with great excitement that we do. Now, as part of our yearly festivities, it has always been custom to have a guest speaker perform a speech of theirs while the Great Feast--consisting of berries, prey and other delicacies--is prepared." At this point, a shiver of excitement murmured through the felines below; the aspect of food was, apparently, very appeasing to all.

"The invited cat is meant to be an elder of high respect who will be led up to the Great Rock where I currently stand to share with you past experiences of their life...and, of course, to tell a legend pertaining to this time of the year. So, with no further ado, it is my pleasure to announce our chosen elder of this Solstice Gathering...Hollybranch, where are you? It is your turn to come up here!"

Heads turned as everycat looked over to see a very old, grizzled she-cat approach the tumble of broken stones and haul her speckled body up the jagged pile while Nightstar slipped quietly off into the shadows. Several nearby warriors eyed her cautiously, ready to jump to her aid if it was required. However, it would appear that it was not so: though her patchy tabby coat looked like it had seen better days and her long whiskers were a steady shade of white, beneath the pale tan pelt her taut muscles were anything but scrawny. Clearing the last set of steps easily, she leapt gracefully up to the Great Rock and poised there for several heartbeats, peering down at the assembled cats.

As she stood proudly upon her perch, gazing down with a serene glow burning in her eyes, a sigh of happiness seemed to sweep though the clearing. The still-falling snow created the perfect complement to the content mood, and motivation tingled through the air. The awaiting cats caught their breath as Hollybranch started to speak.

The sound of her meow was...awe-inspiring. All the colours of the world seemed to flow richly through her words, articulating each one in its own special way. Almost instantaneously, listeners found themselves rooted to the frozen ground by their paws, simply dumbstruck by the story that spun itself out of Hollybranch's mouth.

"Greetings, everyone. I see each and every one of you now and am very proud; it is such an honour to have been chosen to speak with you today. As I take in the mighty sight of you all gathered here, from the youngest kits to the frailest elders, from the most powerful Clan leaders to the naive apprentices...it puts faith in my heart, it truly does. For I remember the days since way back when, when I came to this very ceremony and learned so much, met many new friends. Great StarClan, were those ever the times! In fact, I even remember when..."

She went on to enlighten the mesmerized crowd on memories of her past, losing herself in silent mementos of what had come and gone; life in the elder's den had given many opportunities to dwell on her history, but it felt so good to let it out right then and there.

At last it was time for her to move on with her tirade. From the secluded shelter of several bushes arose the irresistible aroma of food, meaning that feast was soon nearing and that the legend the respective elder speaker had chosen should now be told. Finishing her little autobiography with a hasty flourish, she wasted no time in diving right into her narration.

"Now, toms and she-cats, the moon is at its high peak, and the moment I know you all have been so eagerly waitng for has arrived! The myth I have picked from my archives of Solstice Gathering features is a good one, I can assure you that, and in all my moons I have not yet heard it recalled here at this midleafbare congregation. It will be new, it will be fantastic, it will be grand!" It wasn't hard to detect her enthusiasm; it was so obvious that you could almost imagine it broadcasting from her fur like the Moonstone's glittering rays.

"The story I will be retelling tonight is one I heard from my father's mother when I was naught but five and a half moons old. It has remained one of my favourites throughout my life, and it is to my delight that I am now able to rehearse it back to you. It involves much drama, disaster, and, of course, a healthy dose of heart-breaking sorrow. Featuring the adventures of a tom who has never wanted anything more but to have a happy life with his mate and kit, only to have everything ripped away from him.

"Behold the tale of Sandy Claws."

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**...Lulz. On a scale of one to ten on the lame-and-cheesy-o-meter, it ranks 'bout a two-hundred-five, I know. I'm seriously contemplating whether this should be listed as some sort of parody (or something like that, anyway) because of its idiocy. Really, I don't know whereTF this is heading; I'm only a chapter in and already no-plot-thing is kind of pissing me off. -__-**

**Whatever. To be updated whenever the hell I feel like it.**

**--Annie;;/**

**_Sunday November 23, 2008_**


	2. Reading I

**I'm sorry. I know I haven't updated in weeks and Christmas is only days away. I've been having...troubles, and only just now managed to find time to get this to you. And, yes, it's short, but at least it's _something_. Heh.**

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**[Sandy Claws is Coming to Town]**

_.Reading I._

Everything was so _cold_.

Shivers trembled up the mottled tom's spine as chill winds whipped his matted fur in all directions. Such extreme temperatures were making his eyes water; the droplets turned to ice almost immediately, forming frozen packages of brittle residue that gathered in the corners of his eyes.

He ached to readjust his grip on the feathery fowl clenched between his jaws, yet he could not; his freezing all over, from the dribble-encrusted nose to the pale tip of his tail. It took everything he had and more to force his tired limbs to move, and it was nothing but the fiery image burned into his mind that fuelled him, though it was fading by the second, slowly but surely lurring around the edges and disappearing from clear view.

He wanted to stop. He _longed_ to. When the urge became so great that he could not bear to fight it any longer, he at last succumbed to this wretchedness and sank heavily down to the ground. His weakened legs gave out under him and he collapsed into a snow bank as a huddled heap; exhausted, all be could do was watch the snowflakes hurtling past his muzzle through the burning haze that clouded his vision.

After lying still for many weary heartbeats, the picture that had long since drifted out of thought clawed its passage rights into his mind once more. A small intake of breath escaped him at the sight of the fluffy bundle of fur frolicking in his head. Though there was a happy spark in his eyes as he batted playfully at the cold whiteness drifting by, the kit's malnourishment was anything but unapparent; his pelt clung to his bones like there was nothing at all between the two layers, giving his scrawny frame a desperate, hungry look.

Shaking his head abruptly to clear himself of the heart-throbbing picture, he stared off into the distance for a moment before snatching up the still-warm fresh-kill once more and bounding off into the trees. Clouds of snow exploded up behind him as he ran, paws churning continuously and concentrating on nothing but returning to the ragged clump of thorns he—quite piteously—called his nest.

_I am coming, _he thought, letting the words swirl in his heart to feed the adrenaline further. _My son, I am coming home to you._

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**Will try to get some more up whenever I can. Promise.**

**Happy Holidays,**

**--Annie;;/**

**_Monday December 22, 2008_**


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